The World's In Your Eyes
by Kaoru Saotome
Summary: Here we are! Chapter Twelve at last. The messing-about at the hot springs continues, and Duo's in for quite a nasty shock...Reviews still appreciated as I have no idea if I'm doing well or not.
1. Peace At Last

**Disclaimer: **I don't own GW, or any of the characters herein. And one of the one-liners was inspired (or pinched) from another fic about Endless Waltz outtakes. I don't remember what it's called. So don't sue me or flame me, because all you'll get is my trusty bit of driftwood. In the case of flamers, between the eyes at high speed. ^_^

**A/N:** I'd also like to introduce my new muse: the half-size clone of me strongest Angelic ACC. He's called ChibiMe.

CM: Hiya!

*CM: A chibi Angel. Brown hair with explosive-looking bangs at centre of forehead. Eight wings made of purple light, purple eyes without pupils & a tight-fitting grey jumpsuit.*

OK, now back in your box. On with the fic!

__

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

The dawn lanced through the half-closed curtains, transfixing the cut-glass windchime that glinted in its dazzling mix of colours. The patterned lights fell on the face of a young man, who shifted uneasily. After a few moments he mumbled something about toast and sat up slightly, opening Prussian blue eyes that seemed to draw one's gaze within, as if the wounds behind that clear gaze were so horrifying as to pull others into them. Chocolate-brown hair fell messily over his forehead, obscuring almost the whole top half of his face. No mater what was done to that hair, it tangled itself up again within an hour of being tamed. It was unstoppable.

Heero swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He'd been wearing his old combat outfit: a loose-fitting, camo-green tank top and black lycra cycling shorts. He always seemed comfortable when he wore that; it reminded him of the early days of the war, after the initiation of Operation Meteor. Everything had been much easier then; trust in the mission organiser's judgement. He'd been nothing more than a tool, and hadn't had to think about the consequences of his actions. He hadn't cared about his life.

So much simpler that way. Now, the war was over. He was living the life, if it could be called such, of a war hero and celebrity. Everything he'd done for a long time had been watched by the media, the press, otakus, fangirls…the list of eyes that'd stayed on him went on for a long time.  

The others had had similar experiences. Duo lapped it up, adored it. Quatre had been used to it, and so had deftly avoided any prying questions as he'd allowed Trowa to move back into the rebuilt Winner family house with him. Wufei, in his own way, had simply ignored it and gone to start a dojo in his family's homeland of China. He'd heard the building incorporated a shrine to the goddess Nataku, after whom Wufei had named his mech and – posthumously – his wife.

Heero, on the other hand, had simply moved away from civilisation. He was living in a tiny village near Marseilles, in France. The food was better in France than anywhere else, and t had nicer countryside. He'd picked up the language fairly quickly, like he did with everything, but rarely had to use it. Most people spoke English these days, all over the world.

He'd only just moved there a few days ago. Already, the village children were gossiping excitedly in that way children did, of the lights that had been seen in the old house at night. They probably thought it was haunted or something.

Well. Today was his first day as an official resident of the village, because today he went out to seek work.

Here was another problem. Heero knew how to do many things, but he had little experience in most of them. So while he would probably be able to manage most things he was asked to do, he'd be working by the book, with little originality or initiative. 

Enough contemplation. He cracked his neck with a sickening crunch of protesting vertebrae – a bad habit he'd picked up while in the cramped confines of a cockpit – and wandered into the bathroom.

When he emerged from the house half an hour later, he was looking infinitely better. He'd managed to get his hair to point in a sensible direction, and he'd dressed; a dark jacked, with white shirt and sky-blue jeans. Striding down the road into the village proper, he wondered where to start. Finally deciding to head for the local bar and see what was going on there, he checked his pockets. He had enough money to buy food for two weeks, and a little left over. But he should get a job anyway; the more normal he behaved here, the better.

Inside the Tavern, all was noise and laughter; the clink of mugs, the splash of ale spilled while its container was used as a conductor's baton for the singing, the acrid smell of things best left alone that always occurred in a serious drinking establishment.

The barman  asked him what he wanted as he reached the bar proper. Shaking his head, he replied in rapid French that he was looking for a job in the village. He was new there, and intended to enter employment as soon as he could.

"Ah, _oui_," replied the tender cheerfully. "There's always someone looking for work around here, my friend. What can you do?"

"I can carve wood, mix dough, and lift surprisingly heavy objects, for a start," said Heero. "I know how to do a lot of things, but most of them I've never tried."

The barman scrutinised him for a moment, then leaned closer.

"You're living in the old house at the end of the Northern road out of the village, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes," said Heero. "Why?" The tender grinned.

"I just wondered how one so young as you can inspire the children on the town to ghost stories. My daughter is convinced you're dead."

Heero said nothing to that. He didn't want to make things go bad straight away by saying that, officially, he was. Instead, he just asked who was looking for help.

"There's a list in the town hall," said the bartender. "How old are you, my friend, and what's your name?"

"Nineteen," replied Heero truthfully. "And my name is Heero Yuy." He was confident that no one here had heard of him, or read magazines or newspapers or even owned a television. That was why he chose it as a place to live.

"Well, Heero, you go and look in the town hall. There are notices up there. And if you still can't find anything, then there's always something to do behind this bar. You seem a trustworthy lad…"

Heero nodded. "Thanks." With that, he turned and strode out.

The town hall was almost empty. One old lady sat at a desk, writing things at painfully slow speed. Paying no attention to anyone else as usual, Heero walked over to what was obviously the town notice board and looked it over. There were a few notes up from various employers; craftsmen such as carpenters and bakers, postmen, deliverymen, even one from the bar. Finally he decided on three that he'd check. The first one was obvious; an engineer who lived in the village, and spent most of his time fixing farmers' equipment. The best part was that it was almost custom-built for him; since the farmers had little money, they often paid in food instead. Since Heero disliked his own cooking, this sounded pretty good to him. So, he set off for the machine shop at the given address.

The engineer was a tall man named Andre. He had dirty blonde hair down to his shoulders, and his overalls looked like they hadn't been replaced in years.

"So you're a prospective mechanic," smirked the big man. "All right. Here." He pulled a half-destroyed old engine toward him. "This needs to be fixed by next week. If you can do it by then, you can work for me."

Heero looked at the engine. This was nothing to him; he'd worked over entire six-ton war machines in less time than he had for this one measly engine. So he took it and sat down at a small workbench in the corner.

"Hey," said Andre, a little confused. "Don't you want to take it home with you?"

"I won't be long," said Heero airily. _Here it comes_, he thought.

"What?" asked Andre, now even more befuddled. "It'd take a couple of days for me to fix such an engine!"

"A couple of days for someone else," said Heero quietly. "But I can handle it." He paused contemplatively, thinking of when he'd last said those words. Duo was, by now, far away and a long time ago.

Andre almost swore at that apparent insult. Then he blinked as Heero's hands began taking apart the engine as if it were being done in a factory. He knew exactly how to remove every part, in which order, where each clip was…finally, after half an hour, he had all the parts in front of him on the table. He picked up a rusted-through pipe and looked at Andre. "Where can I replace this?" Wordlessly the man threw him a spare. Heero caught it in one hand and put the engine back together again. It took a little while, but sure enough when it was finished the engine gleamed like new. Somehow, while putting it back together, Heero had cleaned all the parts. They shone like the ocean on a spring morning as he lifted the sixty-pound engine and plonked it in the bonnet of the tractor between himself and Andre.

The mechanic was stunned.

"You," he grinned, "I can work with."


	2. Okay, There's One Familiar Face

**Disclaimer**: Once again, I don't own _anything_ in this fic except the storylines I create. So people who try to sue me and have no evidence will not have any sympathy either. And if you flame me needlessly I will thump you with a large piece of driftwood.

ChibiMe: Well…the plot thickens. Or does it? o_O

KS: Quiet. It will, in this chapter. I think.

CM: What kind of a writer are you?

KS: A manic one. I created you, didn't I?

CM: litany of swearwords

KS: Okay, ladies and gentlemen, the second chapter of my first properly structured, chaptered fic: The World's In Your Eyes. Have fun.

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

The day passed peacefully. Heero and Andre had a lot to do, so they didn't speak much to one another except to request particular tools or parts. The only event was when a farmer arrived to pick up a repaired plough, and stayed to talk for several minutes with the hapless Andre. Heero, fully recognising a situation very similar to Quatre being waylaid in the middle of a task, smoothly performed both tasks at once until the grimy old farmer left. Once the rambling man was gone with his plough, Andre grinned at his new partner.

"Thanks, Heero. He could talk the legs off a heron." He suddenly noticed that both the jobs were still in progress. "Hey, if you're trying to split your concentration – "

"I don't split concentration," said Heero, handing Andre's own work back. "Don't worry, I didn't screw it up."

"If you say so," said Andre, deciding to trust his co-worker. "So, Heero, have you met everyone in the village yet?"

"No."

"There aren't many here. We're a very small town."

"That's why I came here."

"Well, let me give you one piece of advice. It's a Friday, and that means the young men at the factory will be coming to the bar after they finish. Same time we do, just about. Watch out for them; they're typical young men. Very aggressive after a few drinks."

"Got it. Anything else I should know?"

"Apart from 'don't annoy the whole village at once'? Not really. But it might be a good idea to find yourself some friends quite quickly, so you've got someone to talk to. Do you drink often?"

"No."

"As I thought. No one with a mind like yours drinks heavily. Well, I sometimes go to the bar at weekends, just to eat lunch. If you're stuck for someone to talk to, you're welcome to join me."

Heero didn't say anything for a minute. Then:

"Thanks."

They didn't speak for the rest of the day, except when they closed up and said goodbye.

"We start at seven tomorrow morning," said Andre. "I'll see you here at that time."

"No problem," said Heero, turning and walking off back to the village square. Once he was there, he'd buy some food and go home to eat.

_This is the life_, he thought, stretching his arms over his head and clasping his hands behind his head. Then he realised how much like Duo he looked, and lowered his arms.

He heard the van coming up fast behind him. Turning, he noticed immediately that something was wrong. It was weaving dangerously, and almost knocked over several fruit stalls as it came toward him. He tensed, and then leaped to safety – a distance of some eight feet – as it passed.

_No way will anyone else be that lucky_, he thought desperately. He had to stop the van. So he got his feet under him and sprinted after it. It wasn't moving fast – maybe twenty at the most – so he caught up to it easily. Then he heard the scream.

A young woman was in the way of the van, and was frozen to the spot.

_Aw hell_, thought Heero as he charged ahead of the van and knocked the girl out of the way – and then was struck in the back by the vehicle.

He hit the ground rolling and stopped after about eight feet. One rib gone, and a nasty spinal bruise, his body told him. His last conscious thought before the world went black was, _Here we go again…_

"He's coming around…"

"Nurse, get me that young lady who brought him in…"

Heero's eyes opened fully. Bed. He was in bed. Bandages around his waist, and his ribs too. So they'd recognised both major injuries.

"_Monsieur_ Yuy? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," murmured Heero.

"Heero, you had a very lucky escape," came Andre's voice. "I don't know how you survived that. By rights, you should be dead."

"It happens," muttered the young ex-pilot carefully. "Is that woman all right?"

"I'm fine," came a voice. It sounded like it was smiling. And it was horribly familiar. Heero's gaze shot round to the door.

Standing in the frame was a blonde-haired woman…and he knew her, from long ago.

"Ah yes," said the doctor, missing this. "Heero, allow me to introduce you to the woman whose life you saved: Mademoiselle Sylvia Noventa."

ChibiMe: Woo! Nice.

KS: Your idea, numbnuts.

CM: Leave me alone. cries

KS: Well, folks…slightly shorter chapter, but what the hey; I'm new to this. Now let's see if I can figure out how to work the upload system again. ^_^


	3. Wait a minute, what's he doing on the ne...

ChibiMe: Here we are again. It's been a slight while since he posted, but he's still getting the hang of this chaptered fic stuff.

KS: wailing from far off It's not my style!!

CM: He's right. But he's trying anyway, for everyone who told him it was a good idea. Besides which, the only thing inspiring him to keep it up is listening to 'Doukeshi' right now. So PLEASE review and make both our jobs a little easier.

KS: AAGH! stuck with plothole

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

Heero bit into the soft flesh of the apple gratefully. Hospital food, despite the obvious stupidity of the situation, contained very little nutrition.

"So you knew about the drunks?" asked Sylvia, leaning forward slightly. Her hands were clasped between her knees, and her hair seemed to shimmer in the sunlight that shot in the window.

It'd been two days since the incident with the van. The local _gendarmerie_, a large man named Jacques Aristelles, had caught the lunatics involved. As they'd all suspected, the culprits were in chronic states of inebriation and had been sent off to the nearest magistrate – two towns away – under the appropriate charges.

Heero had been kept in hospital, and was due to be released after two more days. His rib was more or less fine, and would heal perfectly if he didn't strain it. His backbone had been the injury that had kept him in this long, though; no one knew if any nerves were damaged. So four days were to be spent in the care of the medical staff, until they were sure nothing important was damaged.

"I knew," said Heero, remembering enough of his limited social skills not to speak through a mouthful of apple. "I just didn't figure they'd be drink-driving in the middle of the afternoon."

"All the same, your reaction time was incredible," smiled Sylvia. "No wonder you were a Gunda – "

Heero shushed her, holding a hand up to stop her talking.

"I don't want people here to know," he explained quietly. "You saw the treatment Duo and the others got. I hate publicity...so please, can you keep it under your hat?"

"_Mais oui_," smiled Sylvia. "I understand perfectly…you certainly enjoyed that," she reflected quietly as the annihilated apple core clonked into the waste disposal bin by Heero's bed.

"Very much," smiled the soldier. "Thank you." He didn't smile often; unknowing of this, Sylvia was totally unaware of exactly how much he _had_ appreciated it.

"Nothing," she said dismissively, waving a hand. Then her cerulean gaze turned to him again, and she took her turn to smile. "Heero Yuy…it seems we're destined to be involved in road accidents every time we meet."

"Just don't drive a truck through my ward," joked Heero feebly. She giggled.

"Your talking muscles aren't damaged," came the voice of Heero's nurse. So few accidents happened in this town, it was quite normal for a patient to have a personal nurse. It helped them feel more at home, and there were almost too many staff for the hospital's flux of patients. Heero's was called Annette. She was a loud, outspoken and jolly young woman – maybe twenty. And so reminiscent of Duo, it almost made him miss the braided lunatic.

"You're lucky," said the patient seriously. "There was a time when I only spoke to reply to important questions."

"Well, how important to you deem the question of dinner?" grinned Annette. "Tonight we have…"

"It doesn't matter," said Heero. "Sylvia brought me some food today." The Noventa girl beamed proudly.

"Was that wise?" asked Annette. "The food here is hygienically prepared…"

"Don't worry, Nurse." Heero adamantly refused to use her name. He was like that. "I'm sure Sylvia can cook food that won't get people sick."

This almost threatening statement ended the conversation, killing it pretty much stone-dead. Heero found himself dismissing the nurse as an amateur. Duo would have come up with a riposte to that within eight seconds. She remained two full minutes, checking everything in the room was shipshape, and then left. She never said a word.

"How about we go down to the communal room?" asked Sylvia pleasantly. "You can stand, can't you?" she added teasingly. She knew full well that, should Heero's legs be broken and under continuous assault with cheesegraters, he'd be able to stand up.

Heero was already swinging his legs off the bed. He stood at the same time Sylvia did, and she linked arms with him before marching him down to the larger room at the back of the hospital. It had a large window – spanning the whole wall – which commanded a spectacular view of the rolling green hills that surrounded the town, and every copse thereon. The room also contained several armchairs, some of which seemed never to be vacated by the old men and women who lived in the hospital, two sofas – generally empty – and one large television. It also contained, at the moment, four snoring pensioners. The two youths sat down on a sofa after retrieving the remote and relaxed. Sylvia began channel-surfing, while Heero cracked his joints quietly.

"Aw, hey!" said Sylvia happily after a couple of minutes. "Look at this, Heero!"

Heero glanced over at the screen. On it was…

"Didn't I see him with you last time we met?" asked the girl curiously. Heero nodded…but Quatre had kept them safe. So why was Trowa on the news? He read the subtitled headline:

GUNDAM PILOT MISSING

"Trowa's disappeared?" asked Heero. "Trowa's not the kind to – "He was shushed by Sylvia.

"Quiet. I want to hear this."

"…Gundam pilot and friend of the ESUN's youngest established businessman, Quatre Raberba Winner – also a Gundam Pilot – went missing yesterday from Mr Winner's holiday home in Eastern Europe…"

"Oh Heero," began Sylvia, her voice filled with sympathy. He looked at her.

"I'm not the one to pity," he said quietly. "We've made a lot of enemies between us, Trowa and I."

"I know," she sighed. "What are we going to do?" she added, fully expecting Heero to leap into a Gundam and charge to the rescue.

"Call Quatre," he said. "Do you have a portable vidphone?"

"Yeah," replied the girl, somewhat disappointed. "Aren't you going to look for him?"

"No," said Heero. "It's bad enough one of us goes missing without me wandering around getting lost."

"Go in your….you know." She refused to mention the mechs; someone might hear. "The G-word."

"And be followed back here?" asked Heero. "No…I can't risk everything I've got here, now…the peace. The solitude."

"And you won't risk it for your friend?" asked Sylvia. She hadn't expected him to be so selfish.

"Sylvia, all I can be is a injured man wandering around looking for the guy. He can take care of himself. And if he is the victim of foul play, what can I do that someone else can't? My hacking skills have been bettered among the other four. I have no special knowledge about it; I don't know enough about him to know where he might have gone or if he'd earned any grudges in that area…all I can do is sit at home and watch. That's probably how Quatre feels right now. So I'm going to call him. Go and get your phone, will you? I'll be back in my room."

Sylvia watched him leave. Then she stood up and stamped her foot.

"I won't stand for it!" she cried to herself. Several feet away a pair of glasses were hurled into the air as their wearer was jerked awake.

"I won't," she repeated quietly. "Heero Yuy, you're going to help in some way if it kills you…" Crossing the floor as if she had a grudge against it, she stormed out of the room and headed off to the exits. 

CM: We did it! ^_^

KS: _I_ did it. _You_ hummed 'It's So Alright' for six hours straight.

CM: Sheesh…well, another chapter done. Whaddaya think, minna? We're kinda stuck for ideas here, so we'd appreciate a few imaginative reviews.

KS: Not too imaginative. Nothing about Trowa being kidnapped by a Mayan baboon-samurai or anything. Just…ideas.

CM: Spoilsport. See ya next time, folks.


	4. We Won't Stand For This

ChibiMe: We're back. And things are hotting up! looks around nervously Especially since that big moody-pants told me if I'm seen near the fic I'm dead. Guess he doesn't appreciate my help much…but then, this is my first fic! What am I supposed to do!?

KS: behind him Run. looks at 'camera' OK. Heero is slightly OOC in this chapter, but his friend's in trouble and he's under a little stress himself. So I figure there's maybe a little leeway there.

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

"Here's the vidphone," said Sylvia as she walked in several minutes later. Her hair glittered in the sunlight lancing through the window as she turned her head. Heero's familiar hospital clothes were over the end of the bed. He was wearing a dark green vest and black cycling shorts.

"Didn't you wear those the first time I saw you?" she asked, azure eyes moving over him with curiosity – and a few other things.

"My old work clothes," he said quietly, opening the vidphone case. "I always feel more comfortable in these." His fingers blurred into invisibility, and half a second later the Dial button was pressed. Sylva blinked. Half a second for a worldwide-class vidphone number?

"Hello?" came a tired voice from the computer. Despite his exhaustion, there was forced politeness and readiness in the tone. Quatre would always help someone else if he could.

"Quatre," said Heero flatly.

"Heero!" said Quatre, his face lighting up. "How are you, my friend?" The blonde man noticed the hospital wall and bed head in the background. "What happened to you?"

Damn. Heero hadn't wanted there to be any focus on his condition. "Just a minor injury, Quatre. I…heard about Trowa on the news. I called to see if you were all right, if there was anything I could do to help."

Quatre blinked. Heero wasn't normally that concerned. In the past, in similar situations, he'd let his fellow pilots get on with it themselves. He knew their capabilities and that they could get out of bad trouble.

"Well, uh...where are you, Heero?"

"Is this line secure?"

"Of course. You and the other three were the only ones given this number, and the line is protected."  
"I'm near Marseilles."

"In France?"

"Yeah. I've been relaxing. Or trying to."

"Trying to?" Quatre's voice became edged with concern. "Heero, did you get followed? Were you attacked or something?"

Heero shook his head. "Just someone from the past who I should maybe have listened to a little more. She's not a threat."

"She?" Now the Arabian businessman's tones indicated polite interest. He wouldn't pry.

"Sylvia Noventa," said Heero. Of course, with him there was never a need to pry. He was quite often more candid than most in conversations.

"The Field Marshal's granddaughter?"

"The very same," said Sylvia, leaning into shot and mock-embracing Heero. He looked worried. "You'll notice it's my vidphone he's using. He doesn't trust the public ones."

Quatre shook his head in disbelief.

"Always the same, Heero," he laughed.

"But to get back to the original topic, Mr Winner," said Sylvia. "How are you?"

"Please, call me Quatre…and I'll be okay. They're out looking for him right now. The number of people willing to help an ex-Gundam pilot is quite large. They'll probably find him any day now."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Heero.

"Unless you know of a cellphone he might have had with him," smiled Quatre. "And no, he left it here. He wasn't planning on going out…for long…" He looked away from the screen, tears threatening to fill his eyes. "I'm sorry. This isn't the best time to present myself. I'm quite shaken up."

"I take it the others are helping with this?" asked Heero.

"Duo's joined the Prometheus Alliance. They're helping but it seems that if someone has taken him, their computers aren't connected to the rest of the world. "I'm seriously scared, Heero…"

"Do you want me to come over and stay with you for a while?" asked Heero. Sylvia almost did a double-take. She'd never seen such concern on Heero's face before. The pilots had all seen Quatre as a younger brother, despite all the strength he'd displayed. It was something in his manner. Especially now, when he damn near recoiled from the computer.

"But, Heero, the publicity – you _hate_ publicity – "

"It doesn't matter. You run a huge company, Quatre. You need to stay alert. If my being around makes you feel better, then I should do it."

"Oh, Heero, would you?" asked Quatre, his face lighting up. "You'd really do that?"

"Sure. I'll start packing a few things right away. I'll stay 'til we find Trowa, then I'll leave you in his capable hands. He always could talk to you better than I could."

"Thank you, Heero…you don't know how much I need to see a friendly face right now…"

"I should be there in about four days," said Heero. "I'll hitch-hike all the way."

"No you won't," said Sylvia decisively. "Quatre, can I come too?"

"Certainly, Sylvia," smiled Quatre, some of his old politeness showing through the face of half-tears and gratitude. "I look forward to meeting you in person."

"I'll bring Heero with me," she said. "We'll be there some time tomorrow."

"Great," said Quatre. "Should I have one bed aired, or two?"

"Two," said Heero quickly. "Definitely two." Sylvia giggled and nodded. 

"We're not a couple, Quatre," she said. "We aren't in love…we're just old friends."

"Okay," said Quatre, blushing. "I'm sorry. I wasn't sure…"

"It's okay," said Heero. "I'll see you tomorrow, Quatre."

"Tomorrow, Heero," smiled the Arabian. "I look forward to it." He cut the connection, and the two were left staring at a blank screen. Then Heero began to snigger quietly.

"What is it?" asked Sylvia.

"One bed or two…aw, jeez…" managed the ex-pilot before falling back onto his bed, laughing his head off. Sylvia sighed and picked up the vidphone, closing it before it got damaged.

"Men," she muttered. Heero was still helpless with mirth. She left quietly.

Some two hours later, Heero had calmed down and run through a few exercises. Since he was the only one in his ward, he had the run of the place. At the moment he was doing vertical press-ups with his feet straight up in the air.

"Heero, I – " began the doctor, walking in and looking up. "_Mon dieu_! Heero, what are you doing?"

"Aerobics," said Heero, balancing on one hand.

"But you're too unfit to do that!"

"Do I look it?" asked Heero. "Anyway," he continued, getting his feet under him. "I have to leave early."

"What?"

"A friend of mine needs me to be by his side right now. So I'm leaving. Tonight. I'm just about healed now anyway, but I promise I'll be careful."

"You call that careful?" asked the doctor.

"I've been able to do that since I was ten years old," said Heero calmly. "I'm just waiting for Sylvia to get here and then I'm going with her. She's coming too."

"Heero, I really must protest – " uttered the doctor, a faint nagging at the back of his mind. Now that he was acting like this, Heero seemed familiar.

"Look, Doc," said Heero adamantly, some of the old scornful tone returning to his voice, "I'm going. Tonight. Someone needs me." He looked at the doctor, whose mouth was working silently. He was pointing at Heero with one shaking hand.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Heero quietly.

"You're a Gundam pilot!" breathed the doctor.

"Oh yeah...they have TV here, don't they. Yes, I am. And I expect you to include that information as data about patients, thus including it in your Hippocratic oath. I _don't_ want to be found by the press, doctor. So let me be."

"Er, yes," murmured the doctor. "Well, if you're a Gundam pilot, then I trust you entirely with your own assessment of your health."

"Thank you," said Heero quietly. Sylvia, behind the doctor, knocked on the open door.

"All set, Heero?" she asked.

"I'm not packed. Give me four minutes once I'm in my house." He walked past the doctor and Sylvia, expecting her to follow him. She did, but grumbling about his lack of manners.

In a matter of seconds Heero was doing something he'd wanted to do since his second day at the hospital – sprint. He enjoyed using his body, feeling muscles work without straining. His incredible stamina was more than capable of taking him the half a mile to his house at the top of the village. He disappeared through the front door less than fifty seconds after leaving the hospital.

Sylvia caught up with him as he came out. She was wearing heels, as was currently fashionable; while Heero had taken just two frantic minutes to pack what he needed  - half the time he had allotted himself – it had taken her that much time just to reach the house. As he reached the gate with a duffel bag filled with necessary items, Sylvia blinked at him owlishly while regaining her breath.

"How do you…do that?" she asked him between gasps. "Is everything you do…so fast?"

"Not everything," he muttered, stopping for a moment to consider the innuendo. Then he looked up.

"I thought the air pressure was different," he murmured.

"What?" asked Sylvia, regaining her poise and following his gaze. Then: "Ohh…!"

A storm was brewing. Along the Western horizon, the lower clouds formed a single purple mass, against which distant trees stood out minute and sharp. The upper edges rose into the light, a far land of wild mountains. Copper-coloured, weightless and motionless, they suggested a glassy fragility like that of frost. Surely, when the thunder finally struck, they would vibrate, tremble and shatter until warm shards, sharp as icicles, fell flashing down from the ruins.

"We'd better hurry," murmured Heero.

"But the view…" began Sylvia in awe.

"…Will land on us if we stay out here too long," interrupted the ex-pilot. "Come on. We should get moving before we're soaked."

Muttering about a certain soldier's inability to appreciate Nature, the young Noventa led the way back to her holiday home; a small cottage, inconspicuous among others of its type. Roses curled around the door, and chickens were painted onto the cream brickwork. It was a typical, traditional farmer's cottage…but the image was totally spoilt by the three-ton, customized fuschia pickup truck with fire transfers, bull horns and extra air intakes that was parked on the front drive.

"This is yours?" asked heero incredulously. Somehow he'd never figured Sylvia Noventa would own a monster like that.

"Yeah, isn't it cute?" giggled Sylvia. "My stuff's already in the back; when we met I'd just arrived. I haven't unpacked fully yet. It'll see me through 'til the end of this." She unzipped her bag, tugged something free and moved back to the driver's cab.

"So we're ready to go," said Heero, throwing his bag into the back and fixing the truck's tarpaulin over their luggage to keep it dry. Striding to the front of the truck, he stepped up into the cab. Sylvia had removed her heels and replaced them with trainers so as to drive properly, and was already in the cab waiting for him. As he closed the door and fastened his seatbelt, she checked the time.

"Four-thirty…we should get halfway there by tonight if he's in the same place they showed on the news."

"He is," said Heero. "Let's do it."

The truck's engine roared to life. Heero swore something gave off an eerie green light beneath the hood for a moment. Then they were moving – and, despite the fact that Sylvia wasn't such a good driver, Heero welcomed the acceleration. Every second they saved meant one second closer to reaching Quatre, and from there Heero would attempt to help his friends one last time before disappearing from public view forever. That was his plan; and whenever Heero Yuy planned something, he followed it through until the end.


	5. We're Off!

ChibiMe: The plot thickens even more. But will our heroes find Quatre before he cracks, wanders out and goes Zero System on the first person he sees? And is there a chemistry of any kind at all between Sylvia and Heero? If there is, that damn author's taking his sweet time in getting to it…

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

The pickup bounced merrily along, its three-tons-plus of mass roaring along the almost deserted highways of the French countryside. Heero bounced with it; Sylvia, however, was used to the truck's odd motion and remained perfectly seated, even when a nasty pothole in a particularly decrepit stretch of tarmac threatened to flatten Heero's skull against the cab ceiling. 

Sylvia's in-car music collection was an oddity. It consisted entirely of pre-Colony music such as early Blues, Rock and other such genres. Unfortunately it also included other, slightly later genres such as Death Metal; it was this screaming nonsense that was making the truck bounce on its suspension more than the road's uneven surface.

Heero, by coincidence, was also fond of most of the genres in this collection. His main dislike, however, was the one currently playing at volumes unknown to popular man.

The disc was on a small turntable; with the push of a button, a different disc could be instantly accessed. Heero reached for the button, and the music changed.

"BORN IN A BURIAL GOOOOOOOWN – "

Click.

"All the leaves are brown…"

The soldier sat back. This was a little more bearable. Sylvia, startled out of her driving reverie by the change, scowled slightly and pressed another button – this time on the easy-access control pad fitted into her steering wheel.

"I'd been for a walk, on a winter's – "

Click.

"You ain't nothin' but a hound dawg…"

Click. Heero had returned to his button-pressing.

"Raindrops keep falling on my – "

Click. So had Sylvia.

"Jeremiah was a bullfrog – "

Click.

"This is getting ridiculous." Heero's voice was flat. He'd turned the radio off.

"I agree…I have an idea. You don't know which discs are in. Let's say whatever button you press, apart from the ones you already know – we stick to. Okay?"

"Fine." Heero pressed the penultimate in the row of buttons. Immediately the cab was filled with the crooning of David Bowie. They both relaxed – Sylvia grinning widely, and heero falling back into his seat with a satisfied smirk.

After a while, Sylvia began to sing along with the music.

"She'd sigh like Twink the Wunderkind, and turn her face away…" she looked to her side, and glimpsed Heero actually sitting with his eyes closed for once. Usually he was totally alert, all senses open. But, for once, he'd relaxed. She didn't know how privileged she was to have seen that. She returned her gaze to the road.

"She's uncertain if she likes him…" she continued.

"But she knows she really loves him…" That hadn't been her…it was a soft, almost insidious voice with a hint of pain behind it. A voice she knew well.

Sylvia turned. Heero, singing? That deserved a double take. But still, bad driver though she may be, she had to keep her eyes on the road. She decided to let her reflexes handle the road while she considered the enigma with which she had just been presented. She thought she knew heero, and then he went and threw her a complete curve.

"It's a crash course for the…" Heero trailed off, opened his eyes and looked at Sylvia. He didn't know why she'd stopped. She turned after a moment, to wonder the same of him. Their moment of eye contact lasted a scant second before Sylvia broke away. She told herself it was to keep her eyes on the road, but simultaneously she knew there was a much less orthodox reason: Heero's eyes frightened her. It was said the eyes were the window to the soul; in that case, from what Heero's eyes told her, he had a mind like a steel ball. Those eyes were almost lambent when he wasn't staring at you; but, like those pictures that changed with one's angle of view, the eyes changed when they were directed at you. From the side, they were endless pools of azure power. When he was angry, sky-hued lightning coruscated across his baleful glare. But full-on, it was like looking at two chips of blue marble or granite. There was a reason people called that gaze a Deathglare; and it wasn't because of its threatening nature. It made the user appear totally soulless, as if any conscience or human kindness behind those eyes had long since melted away to leave a killer mind.

Heero watched her for a couple more seconds, then turned to look out of the window. They stayed like that for another hour; Sylvia occasionally humming along with Mr Bowie, and Heero watching the scenery go by and estimating their position using various landmarks and signposts.

Eventually Sylvia could stand it no longer. She was a communicative soul, deep down; stonewalling was not her specialty. She looked at Heero from the corner of her eye.

"So, Heero…I lost track of you after we met last time. What happened between then and our next meeting?"

Heero looked at her. Hard. For quite a long time. Then he replied.

"That's like asking someone to explain the entire Rosetta Stone in one sitting," were his words. "A lot of things happened. I went back to killing people, earning myself enemies and murdering them, ruining the families of soldiers whose only crime against me was to be told to stand in my way."

Oops. She'd hit a nerve. Sylvia rewound a little.

"Well…my grandmother told me you visited her and that she got in touch with the Vice Foreign Minister. Ms Dorlian seemed very close to you."

"I guess I was her guardian for a while."

"But she was old enough to look after herself…she had no legal guardians, That would have come up in the news."

"You don't understand. I mean I protected her. A lot of people were out to kill her…and she was the only person to ever see my face without me wanting it to be seen. Then when Duo turned up, and shot me…I guess I figured she had to live. The Fates wanted it. So I made sure she stayed alive."

"Duo…who's he? Was he the one in the truck when you met me at the graveyard?"

"No. That was Trowa. Duo was Pilot 02. He's in America now, unless he went to visit Wufei – pilot 05 – in China. Those two were the strangest friends I ever met."

"So Duo used the black Gundam?"

"Yes…its name was Deathscythe." Since they were melted down, and the war was over, it was safe to speak of such things. It was public knowledge anyway.

"And Trowa?"

"Pilot 03. Heavyarms…the red and white one."

"And Wufei?"

"Shenlong. With the spear and extending arm."

"So Quatre had the other one…with the two blades…"

"Yes. Sandrock."

"What happened to those Gundams anyway?" asked Sylvia. Heero almost didn't tell her…but, he figured, what the hell.

"We destroyed them. Sent them into the Sun."

"Hmm…from your tone, no one else knows that. I guess I'll keep it secret." She smirked at him, taking her eyes off the road briefly. "And if I tell anyone, you can kill me."

Heero blinked. This was going to be a long trip.


	6. A Night In The Woods

ChibiMe: Well, it's been a while. There's been a lot of stuff going on back here, for both of us…and with that damned author's attention span, it gets progressively harder. Maybe this chaptered thing is better than it seemed at first…

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

The day wore on. The Bowie disc ended, and neither of them was the type to listen to the same piece of music twice in close succession. They turned off the radio and talked, in fits and starts. Then in starts and fits, until Heero noted pointedly that the sun was going down.

"You think we should stop for the night?" asked Sylvia in response. Heero nodded, deciding to feign fatigue from his recuperation. Privately, however, he just wanted to get the manic girl off the road before it got too dark. She was a nightmarish driver by day; after sundown she was probably unstoppable.

Sylvia pulled off the road and up to a copse, on a hill a few hundred yards away from the road.

"We'll be safe here," she explained. "You still get weirdoes at night sometimes."

Heero believed, again quietly, that hiding in the woods after dark in the middle of nowhere wasn't the best way to avoid any nearby psychopaths. However, he didn't feel like having an argument; on one hand he couldn't be bothered, and on the other he felt quite strongly that it would be a very bad thing to annoy someone like Sylvia when she was his best hope of reaching Quatre quickly. So he simply shrugged and got out of the truck.

"Did we bring camping stuff?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," smiled Sylvia. "I keep that kind of thing handy in case I get stranded. There's a little stove, some food and a tent, and…oh, no…"

"What?" asked Heero, keeping the resigned tone from his voice. He was fairly sure of what was coming.

"There's only one sleeping bag…"

Yep. He'd been right.

"You take it," he said without missing a beat. "I'll sleep in the woods."

"What?" Sylvia blinked. A man, turning down a chance to share a sleeping bag with a woman? That settled it – Heero was _definitely_ not an average male.

"I'll sleep in the woods," elaborated the pilot, either missing of ignoring her incredulous outburst. "I can find somewhere easily. I've slept in less comfortable places."

"Oh, no you don't," said Sylvia adamantly. "What if I get attacked during the night? What if you get lost? What if you get lonely? What if you catch a cold and it turns into pneumonia and you die a horrible, painful, scratchy-lunged death?"

_What if you get real_, thought Heero irritably. Thankfully, his time around Relena had taught him a few manners – and blunted some of his almost trademark stoicism – and he relented. Shrugging, he strode to the truck and unloaded the gear marked 'camping'. "Then I'll sleep outside the tent."

"It's a big bag," said Sylvia, in a small voice.  
"What?"

"You'd get cold."

"I'll turn the stove on."

"And leave us with nothing to cook with in the morning?"

"I…" Heero blinked. There were few people who could derail him when he was like this. Apparently the Noventa bloodline had granted Sylvia the excellent arguing skills of her grandfather. "I'm going to end up in there with you anyway, aren't I? I'm not going to win this."

"Heero, you can stay outside the tent if you want. But I'd sleep a lot better with you closer by." It wasn't really a lie, she reflected.

Heero's eyes glinted faintly as his mind worked. Finally he shrugged. "Fine. If you feel that strongly about it, I'll share the bag." He crouched and began setting up the tent. It was a spring-loaded one; once the pegs were down, it decompressed at the pull of a cord into a three-man – or woman – tent.

"Just don't try anything funny," warned Sylvia, half-jokingly. She wagged a finger at him, and carried the bag inside. "Do you want something to eat? We may not have time in the morning."

Heero gave her a look. She was beginning to recognise it. It was the look that said, I know you're fully aware I know what I'm doing.

"All right, fine," she said, dropping the sleeping bag inside the tent and stepping back out. "But I'm hungry. Hand me a can of tuna, would you, please?"

"Sure," replied the pilot flatly, picking up one of the little tin containers and throwing it to her. She flicked the tiny stove on, placed a tripod and gauze over the top, opened the tin and put it on top of the newly-fashioned heating array.

"That'll be really nummy in about five minutes," she smiled, looking at the tin contentedly. "Now, I'm guessing you'd want to go to sleep now. So the bag's in there."

"No. I'll keep watch." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked off. He melted into the trees after about eight paces.

Sylvia sighed and sat watching the tuna begin to steam slightly. Men. There was no escaping them, even when you wanted to.

Later that night, Heero turned at the sound of a muffled scream. He blinked as he realised his obvious mistake. He'd been watching the road instead of the camp, presuming any threat to have to use it to reach them. Stupid, stupid, _baka Heero_, he cursed himself as he sprinted between the trees and saw the tent deflate, a struggle going on within. There was a snuffling sound, like heavy, rapid breathing, and Sylvia was shouting and yelling his name as she beat her attacker over the head with something oblong.

Heero dived into the tent head-first, grabbing hold of the first thing he could.

"HEY!" shouted Sylvia, blushing.

"Sorry," he grunted, removing his hand quickly and punching the other shape as hard as he could. It flew backward, rebounded off the inside of the tent and struck him in the face, knocking him over before leaving the tent…on four legs…

Heero got up and glanced out of the door.

"What happened?" asked Sylvia breathlessly, struggling upright. "Did he run away?"

"It," corrected Heero. "Sylvia, you just made me punch a badger."

"That was a _badger_?" wondered Sylvia. "I thought it was just a really hairy guy with a big nose…"

Heero sighed, and turned his attention to the girl. He averted his eyes immediately, going slightly pink. She'd changed into some nightwear; silk, Chinese-style pajamas that would normally keep her completely decent. However, the struggle had rendered that idea null.

"Sylvia," he murmured. "Your clothes…"

"You like them," she smiled.

"You're overflowing."

She looked down. Then she squeaked, hid under the sleeping bag and rearranged her top. Peeking out, she blushed heavily and scowled at him.

"What're you looking at me like that for?" he asked flatly, staring her in the eye. "I didn't do that to you. And I looked away."

She opened her mouth, then shut it again when she realised he'd made a better point than she could counter.

"Sorry," she finally said, her blush cooling from furious red to shameful pink. She opened the neck of the bag and climbed inside, then looked at him. "You still wanna stay?"

Heero was about to say no – in fact, he didn't know whether he could stand a repeat of the view he'd had a minute ago, and he'd probably get one by accident in there – but he caught the pleading look on her face. The badger had shaken her, despite its - obviously - merely curious intentions.

"Okay," he said, closing the tent entrance behind him and turning off the little fluorescent lamp before climbing into the bag and closing his eyes. Sylvia shifted a couple of times, lying primly with her arms at her side while he lay with his back to her. He closed down his conscious functions and slept dreamlessly, as usual, within about half a minute.

Sylvia listened to the deep, slow breathing next to her and sighed. She was ambivalent about sleeping next to a man, especially one like this. He had a body that most of the girls in her old school would have died to touch, but she hadn't been like them and had left men alone her whole life. Now, at eighteen, she was beginning to feel the strain. While Heero could be a complete hole at times, she felt attracted to him. Who wouldn't, after all?

She sighed. This wasn't an affair of the heart. Like most women, Heero's presence affected some very different parts of her.

Her brain's anger centers, for a start, she thought as he pulled more of the bag over to him. He was obviously used to having a bed to himself, like her…but he'd pulled her right up against his back. She disengaged herself as stealthily as she could and turned her back on him…and slept.


	7. On The Road Again

KS: Okay, we're back on track. There's a little home trouble going on right now, and I'm delayed in all my projects. But I think I can handle it. So forgive any delays.

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

_"Sylvia," said Heero, Prussian eyes glinting slightly._

_"Yeah?" replied the girl timidly. She turned to look at him and noticed for the first time how close he was. He was less than an inch from her, messy brown hair brushing against her own golden fringe, his warm, sweet breath tickling her cheek slightly._

_A hand came up and caressed her face. He hadn't needed to continue verbally; that gesture contained all the feeling he was trying to express. His eyes showed pain, conflict, and fear; he had never shown this much emotion to a female, he was terrified of rejection…_

_That all stopped when her own hand touched his, and she smiled. A second later their lips touched passionately, opening to one another, seeking satisfaction within one another's arms and mouths as they fell back on the large bed, bodies locked together._

_"Heero," she whispered lovingly, as the fire of her passion built within her. His strong arms were around her as tightly as the safest protection, and she sighed contentedly into his ear – purring as her eyes closed in bliss._

"Heero…" murmured Sylvia, stirring in her sleep. She didn't stir very far; this was due to the sleeping bag and a pair of arms encircling her shoulders and waist.

The passion of her dream finally caused her brain activity to spike. She awoke, eyes fluttering open as her lips parted in something between a sigh and a query.

She finally brought herself into perspective and checked out her surroundings. She was very warm, in the shade, in a sleeping bag, with arms around her, there was birdsong somewhere above her – 

Rewind. _Arms?_ Sylvia turned her head and caught the scent of Heero's breath. Now she remembered her dream, and went pink. She was embarrassed; yet he slept still and had not witnessed whatever she had thought of. Somehow, though, she still wished it hadn't been a dream.

_Am I falling in love?_ Her eyes widened. She didn't know, she'd never done it before.

_Hang on. Why are his arms around me?_

Heero twitched one, twice, then groaned slightly as his eyes opened. For a second he didn't know where he was – in that split instant, she saw him as the human she'd been trying to see beneath the Perfect Soldier's mask. He was vulnerable, confused…as she watched, his face hardened. Then he focused on her, the way his arms had wound themselves around her, the warmth of her body, her chest pressed against his…

With a half-grunt of shock, he released her and shifted back slightly. He went pink as his head bowed, hiding his eyes beneath his chocolate-coloured locks. "Sorry."

Sylvia pitied him in that moment. She'd seen, she thought, all sides of his nature now; the image before her was not that of the perfect warrior, a Gundam Pilot with twice the strength and power of an ordinary man. This was just a boy, scared of his own feelings in case they got him hurt.

There wasn't much she could say. She considered embracing him in turn. She wanted to. But she wasn't ready; she would be signifying that she loved him, and even she wasn't sure about that yet. So, difficult as it was, she stood up and walked out of the tent silently.

Later that morning, they set off once again. The tent was packed away, and all the camping equipment had been put away. Heero had done most of it, the incredibly deft hands of the pilot making the entire camp-striking process a ten-minute job. Now they were on the road, Sylvia looking anxiously over to the male with whom she was traveling. Heero simply sat with his chin in his hand, looking out of the window, too uncomfortable to say anything.

He'd behaved like a kid. He _hated_ moments of weakness. As if it hadn't been bad enough to get talked into sharing a tent with the girl, now he'd embraced her involuntarily.  He'd let his guard down – and he did his best never to do that. The untouchable aura that surrounded him was something he'd cultivated during the war; if he was close to no one, he reasoned, then no one would be hurt as a side effect of the attempts on his own life. It was a philosophy that had kept his friends – such as they were – alive through the entire conflict. But they'd been either under his protection anyway or Gundam pilots themselves…

He wasn't sure if he wanted to live like that any more. The war was over; he would have to relax sooner or later. Even Wufei was adjusting to the peacetime way of life; he still fought, but only in hand-to-hand or with a katana. The dojo he used was among the most famous in existence, purely because of his presence. It was rumoured – but, Heero thought, unlikely – that the heir of the Long Clan was searching for a wife with whom to continue the bloodline. That was probably wishful thinking; after the Mariemaia episode, during a night of drunken revelry, Wufei had been loosened sufficiently enough to tell them about his past. It had come as a shock to them; the thought of consummating a marriage at fourteen had Quatre cross-eyed. More surprising still had been the effect on another of the pilots.

Duo had never fought with Wufei again.

Heero pondered this as they passed the border and entered Belgium. It had seemed unlikely that the braided pilot would leave Wufei alone forever, but it had been a couple of years and there hadn't been a single threat to cut off the American's ponytail with a katana. There had been a surprising lack of activity from Duo; it was as if his mission to make the Chinaman's life hell had been negated by the sheer volume of crap Wufei had already undergone. It had been scarily quick; no sneaky darts laced with laxative hidden in Wufei's mattress, no alterations of Nataku to give it comedy breasts, no switching the Oriental's Happy Birthday banner to read Have A Fantastic Period - _nothing_. There was still the occasional jibe, a quick mickey-take just to keep the camaraderie going - but Wufei, having worked out that this was the limit of what would now be forthcoming from the American, took it all in his stride. He had actually laughed and joked with Duo the day they had finally gone their separate ways, which - Duo had told him later - scared the Yank so badly he didn't hit on a single attendant on his whole four-flight journey home.

Heero was jolted from his reverie by music. Again. Impassively - or as near to that as his permanent semi-glare could get -the Wing pilot turned his head to look at his companion. She looked at him briefly, but broke the look off almost immediately. She was, it was clear, highly embarrassed about the whole tent indicent and eager to forget it. So, being who he was, he proceeded to broach the subject. He'd never done a damn thing the easy way.

"Sorry about this morning," was all he began with. The ball was in her court. He waited for a reply.

"It's okay," was what he got. Not very encouraging. Normally he'd be fine with this low-level conversation, but he wasn't feeling himself. He put it down to worrying about Trowa and formulated something to say to her, just to keep the conversation going. When he spoke, so did she.

"Listen, I - "

"Look...".

They both paused.

"You first," said Sylvia timorously.

"I didn't mean to do what I did," said Heero, forging on ahead. "I was asleep, and..."

"I know," said Sylvia. "Let's just forget it happened. I mean, it was an accident, so it doesn't matter."

"Right," agreed Heero gratefully.

"Right," echoed Sylvia, her voice confident. Her mind was filled with doubts, however, and her hindbrain was screaming at her to go for his clothes as soon as possible. She had no idea it was possible to be this attracted to a male, and it was taking all her diplomatic skills to hide what she felt. It was still proving difficult. Sighing inwardly, she concentrated on her driving. Beside her, Heero switched off the classical channel. It was replaced by one of her old music discs, which opened with Fireball by Deep Purple. There was a long pause, then they grinned wolfishly at one another as Sylvia gunned the accelerator and pushed the truck to its limit.

Some hours later, still blasting insane-sounding keyboard solos over the Belgian countryside, they began to pass news vans and reporters. They knew they were getting close, and Heero swore loudly as a flashbulb indicated someone had recognised him. The stream of reporters gradually increased, and Sylvia found it harder to overtake the pelting vehicles with their satellite dishes and top-mounted cameras. Almost two hours after sighting the first newsgroup prepresentatives, Sylvia decelerated with a smirk. They were at the gates of the Winner Mansion. The tiny speaker mounted into the wall near Sylvia crackled briefly before speaking.

"Names, press affiliation and reporters' licence numbers," it said haughtily. Clearly whoever it was had long ago become sick and tired of doing this. The Arabic accent told Heero exactly who it was, and he smirked quietly.

"Uh, Sylvia Noventa," said the girl awkwardly. "Personal friend?"

"Yeah, right," said the voice sarcastically. "No licence, lady, no interview!"

Heero was now angry. He dropped to the ground beside Sylvia's door - surprising her as she hadn't heard him climb out and over the roof - and growled at the intercom.

"This is Heero Yuy, former pilot of Wing Gundam. Abdul, if you don't let us in right now, the medical world will spend years puzzling over just how I did what I'll do to you."

Sylvia leaned back, horrified. The gates, however, swung open immediately.

"Good God," she breathed, as Heero walked through the gate. She followed, taking care not to run him over in a fit of irony. Parking the truck in the first safe-looking place, she hopped from the cab and followed Heero inside. Or, rather, tried to; the door was closed as she reached it. She stood, astonished, for a moment or two before it was opened again and Heero's arm pulled her off her feet and through the portal.

Inside the house, all was quiet while Heero glanced around. The Maganac who'd let them in had already disappeared, having been assured rather menacingly by Heero that he knew what to do.

"QUATRE!" roared the Wing pilot after his cursory search. Sylvia clapped her hands over her ears. Where had he learned to yell like that?

"Heero?" came another voice, sounding almost thin and weak by comparison. The acoustics of the huge lobby rendered it totally useless to attempt to follow the sound, but after a few seconds a familiar blonde mop poked itself around a corner. 

"Heero!" repeated Quatre, stepping out from the corridor and smiling broadly. Sylvia glanced at Heero only to find a similar grin on his face; this was surprising, as most of the time he either looked ready to commit murder or seemed glad that he just had.

"Quatre," said the Perfect Soldier, walking toward his friend and shaking his hand warmly. "How are you holding up?"

"Always to the point," smiled Quatre, releasing Heero's hand and placing his own in his pockets. "I'm doing okay. Rashid and the others are a big help to me."

"Yeah, uh..." Heero looked embarrassed. "I kinda threatened one of your friends just now. The guy at the gate...Abdul."

"Don't worry about it, Heero, they're used to it from you. Especially him. Listen, there's something you should..."

"HEERO!" came another voice. A horribly familiar voice.

An American voice.


	8. Where The Hell Did He Come From?

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

Heero sipped his tea silently as Duo explained the circumstances that had brought him to Quatre's home.

"I heard about Trowa before it was broadcast," he said smugly, proud of his hacking skills. "I guess I'm lucky. If I hadn't been scouting out a virus rumour, I'd never have found out. I don't watch the news on TV."

"What do you watch?" asked Sylvia.

"He only ever watches television on Saturday mornings," said Heero. "For the cartoons."

Duo nodded. "What can I say? I'm gregarious."

"Wufei's on his way here too," said Quatre, sitting back down with his own cup. "You can imagine Duo jumped for joy when he heard."

"Can't wait to see Wuffles again," beamed the American.

"You know, Duo, he'll hang you with that braid of yours if you keep calling him that."

"I can outrun him," said Duo confidently. "Hey, I'm working on a new OS..."

"Again?" asked Heero. "You created four new operating systems for my laptop alone during the war. I just wish you'd told me before you uploaded them. You scared the hell out of me."

"Yeah, well..." Duo shrugged. "Wu-man should be here today. He travels light."

"I feel so weird," commented Sylvia. "In the presence of three of the five men who ended nearly a century of feuding in just over a year, then saved the Earth again afterward...you guys are amazingly down-to-earth for super-soldiers."

"We're not super-soldiers," smiled Quatre, earning a 'speak-for-yourself' look from Heero. "Our equipment was what made us the deciding factor in the war. When my Sandrock Gundam first appeared, I must have seemed unstoppable to the poor Leo pilots who came looking for me."

"I scared 'em more," smirked Duo. "A black Gundam with a scythe. I mean, come _on_...which is scarier?"

"Probably a mech that took out two Aries suits, in full flight, with one shot, during atmospheric reentry," came a soft masculine voice from the doorway.

"Wufei!" yelled Duo. "About time! I mean, I can understand you could be a little late with the tiny roads they have around here, but we've been waiting for hours!"

"Not Belgium's fault Americans can't steer," smirked Wufei. "Actually, Maxwell, I was taking in the sights. The rural areas of Europe are not to be missed."

"So what're we gonna do about Trowa?" asked Heero, straight to the point. Sylvia stared at him, amazed at his lack of social graces as he continued, "Wufei, got any ideas?"

"Not without getting paranoid and going into triads and stuff," replied the Chinaman, as Quatre invited him to sit. Accepting gratefully, he added, "I don't think we should rule that out, but let's check the more rational explanations first...what are the chances of Trowa being kidnapped by terrorists?"

"Small enough to be considered nil," said Heero. "He's cautious."

"Then if he's just had an accident and is laid up somewhere?" asked Duo.

"He'd have contacted us somehow. Even by starting a fire and waiting for someone to investigate the smoke."

"Then what's left?" asked Quatre. "What other explanation can there be?" He was a lot more confident, noted Sylvia; less shaky with the topic now that his fellow pilots were in support.

"We're missing something," growled Wufei. "Quatre. You know Trowa best. How was he feeling they day he disappeared?"

"He seemed the same as usual," sighed Quatre. "Quietly went about the day as normal, until he left to pick up some groceries. He always did like doing that for himself." Sylvia blinked. An idea had winked at her, for just a moment. It had gone again, but she resolved to stick with it until it came back and then put it forward in order not to appear a fifth wheel.

They booted ideas around for another hour and a half before Duo yawned and proclaimed himself exhausted. It was around ten; they'd been travelling all day, so they decided to turn in for the night.

In her spacious, four-poster room, Sylvia felt strangely uncomfortable. She was used to her cottage, and having lived among the middle classes all her life – despite her family connections – there was an echo of the sense of guilt felt by everyone who has seen both poverty and wealth. Having been deferentially placed next to Heero's room, she could go and talk to him if she so wished. The fact that she didn't, she reflected, was either a compliment for her self-control or an indication of her fear. She wasn't sure which was worse.

Sylvia drifted off to sleep with a troubled mind, and dreamed fitfully.


	9. Oh, Great, More Visitors

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

_"Sylvia," murmured Heero, holding her to him tightly. "There's something I…need to tell you. It's been going on for a while, and I think you should know…"_

_"What is it?" she asked him, eyes shining in the starlight. She knew this was the moment. This was when he'd say what he felt._

_"I…" Heero got no further. A howling gale sprang up, drowning out all words and tugging at them both. He held onto her but his grip began to slide –  a grip so strong that, even should he be killed, finger amputations would be in order – and she was torn away from him. Crying out in fear, she  was hurled into the centre of the vortex…which glowed a faint green. He looked up – and was met with the face of Wing Gundam Zero Custom, its chest orb dully luminescent as Sylvia was dragged into the core of the machine which had destroyed his life._

_Heero screamed in rage and pain as a familiar pair of huge gunbarrels fixed themselves on him and began to glow…_

"What the hell?" he muttered, opening his eyes. It was early morning, about five or six, and he was slick with sweat. Evidently the nightmare had affected him more than he'd thought.

_Is that really how I see the Zero?_ He thought to himself in wonder. _As the thing that pulled away my chance at a real life?_

Getting out of bed, he was reminded of his still-healing ribs by a faint twinge of agony. He roughly shoved it out of his brain, kicking the screaming mental switchboard of pain until it stopped bothering him. He wasn't in the mood.

Minutes later, wearing clothing Quatre would probably have at least approved of in comparison to his customary work gear, Heero activated the coffee machine in one of the mansion's smaller kitchens. No one else was here; this, he reasoned, probably meant that this was where Trowa would take his breakfast. He didn't like being waited on. Quatre would have accompanied him, and therefore this was where the young businessman would come.

His deductions were rewarded when, five minutes or so later, the blonde man arrived. He was followed by Duo and Wufei, who explained they'd run into him in the corridors of the house and requested help to find their way to some food.

"I put a note under Miss Noventa's door as well," said Quatre. "It's directions to the kitchen. None of us really know her well enough to politely wake her up, and I knew you wouldn't, Heero. Um…that _is_ all right, isn't it?"

"It's fine," said Heero, sipping his coffee and pouring a mug for each of the others.

"Man, Heero, you know me too well," said Duo as he smelt the double-strength Espresso and drank a mouthful. "Aw, yeah, that's the stuff…by lunchtime I should be back to my old self again!"

"Oh, no," murmured Wufei, smiling slightly behind his coffee.

"So, Wufei," said Heero. "There are rumours you're looking for a wife. Is it true?"

"Is it hell," scoffed the Chinaman. "Just women, gossiping as they always do."

"Like I thought," murmured Heero, drinking another mouthful.

Quatre's phone rang. He waved a quick 'excuse me' to the others, and wandered outside to answer it.

"So what's been going on since we split?" asked Duo. "Heero, how's the move to France?"

"I have a job as an engineer," said Heero. "It's rural. Peaceful. I…like it there. What about you?"

"Fully fledged Prometheus Alliance worker," grinned Duo. "Got the scrapyard, of course, but Hilde helps me run that. We're thinking of adopting."

"A miniature Shinigami," murmured Wufei. "That's…a terrifying thought."

"Oh, relax, I'm out of the war," scowled Duo. "I'm not gonna teach a kid to do what I can do. That'd ruin his life as much as it did mine."

"We are such a bunch of screwups," reflected Heero thoughtfully as Quatre returned.

"Um, guys, we're gonna have visitors today," he said, "And before I tell you who, I'm going to have to ask you to take off any personal armament you're carrying…"

There was a pause, then a single gun hit the floor. It was Duo's. He looked awkwardly at Heero, who for once hadn't actually been carrying a weapon, as Wufei placed his katana reverentially on the floor between them.

"Now who's coming?" he asked Quatre, straightening up.

"The Peacecrafts," replied Quatre hesitantly. "Both of them."

Heero took a deep breath, willing himself not to pour his coffee over Quatre's head. He did _not_ want Relena Peacecraft, or her frankly lunatic brother, preaching at him again. Relena kept asking him if he'd gotten into fights recently and then squawking about pacifism no matter whether he had or not…and her brother was just the opposite. The man _never shut up_ about how war affected people!

"Heero, I know you think they're both nuts, so I've told them that if they do want to stay their rooms will be in the East wing…as far from yours as possible. But you'll still have to be polite and socialise with them, okay? Their resources – and Milliardo's skills with psychology – will be a big help in finding Trowa."

"Fine," said Heero sulkily. He intended to avoid both Peacecrafts as much as possible. "If I have to."

"Don't worry," said Duo. "We'll keep 'em off your back. We know how you feel."

"Thanks," said Heero in a monotone, finishing his coffee and heading out. "Better get to work." _Shoring up my defences,_ he added mentally with a touch of wry bitterness.

"He is too set on avoiding them," said Wufei, likewise finishing his coffee. And buckling his katana back on. "Milliardo Peacecraft is a good conversant as long as you don't directly mention war…having said that, I wonder how his fencing skills are. Quatre, you don't mind if I use your basement for some kata and a swordfight later on, do you?"

"Go right ahead, Wufei," smiled Quatre. "This is your home until you return to China. Consider it your house as well as mine."

"Tu casa es nuestra casa," grinned Duo. **(A/N. For those who don't speak any Spanish at all, "Your house is our house".)**

"Exactly," said Quatre. "So…Heero's story I know. Duo I…kind of overheard on my way back in. Wufei, how's your Clan? I know what it's like to head up a whole group of people like that."

"We're expanding once again," said Wufei with a healthy stretch of subject matter, neatly evading the concept of actually admitting something was hard. "A few of the Clan weren't on the home colony when it detonated…I managed to contact them and invite them back to China. With help from the Preventers, we've worked our way back into respectable society." This last was said with an understandable touch of pride. Quatre knew all about saving face, and Duo had heard stories of exactly how important such things were in the East.

"I'm glad for you," said Quatre. "You've dragged the Clan up from the brink of total destruction, Wufei. It isn't easy to do that."

Wufei said nothing, but refilled his coffee cup. He'd never done a damn thing easy.

"Uh…can anyone else see fireworks between Relena and Sylvia?" asked Duo, suddenly looking doubtful.

"I doubt that," said Wufei quietly. "Even the Perfect Soldier won't be enough to drag that girl away from her ideals. She's very set on pacifism."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you love to see it?" laughed the American. Quatre looked slightly worried.

It was about five that afternoon when Abdul, the Maganac on door duty, announced the Peacecrafts' arrival. Quatre immediately went down to meet them, accompanied by the other Pilots and Sylvia – who, with Duo's help, practically dragged Heero downstairs.

"Relena!" grinned Quatre, hugging her. "It's been…what, two years?"

"Close," smiled Relena. "Hi, everyone!" She was rewarded with one cheerful greeting from Duo, a quiet one from Wufei, an enthusiastic one from Sylvia – who had met Relena a couple of times at diplomatic gatherings – and something approaching a coherent grunt from Heero, who had yet to make eye contact with either of them. He believed there was a curse.

"If you want to unpack, I'll show you to your rooms," offered the eternally-smiling Quatre, shaking Milliardo's hand warmly.

"Thanks," replied the taller man in the voice they all remembered from the war – low with unreleased semi-anger, and soft with muted hatred of himself for the acts he had committed. Still the tallest of the gathered heroes, Milliardo's icy blue half-glare equalled Heero's for sheer bowel-disrupting intensity. Those eyes could tell his life story to those who looked close enough.

"Heero," smiled Relena, walking up to him and stopping there for a moment as Milliardo and Wufei began carrying bags after Quatre, "And…Sylvia Noventa? I recall we met at Lord Jikariel's retirement party last autumn…"

"I remember," smiled Sylvia. "It's good to see you again, Relena."

"Relena," came Milliardo's voice, "Come on, you need to see where your room is."

"I have to go now, Heero," she said. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Heero nodded, still not looking at her. She moved off quickly to join the others, not noting his reticence.

"She annoys you?" asked Sylvia quietly from Heero's side.

"More than anything," replied the Perfect Soldier in a half-whisper. "I'll tell you about it later."

"Kay," she agreed, turning to watch the Peacecrafts go.

"Man," said Duo. "I'll tell you this, Heero…annoying as she may be, she's got a great pair."

"What?" asked Sylvia, surprised by his crudeness.

"They're the best eyes I've seen on anyone, and that's the truth," continued Duo, smirking as he recovered his reputation.

"Duo, that mouth of yours will get you killed one day," said Heero. "And Wufei will be there. I guarantee it."

"You think I'll irritate him that much?" asked Duo, eyes widening.

"No," replied the chocolate-haired man, cracking his knuckles. "I just think he wouldn't miss it for the world."

Sylvia giggled as Heero headed upstairs after her.


	10. Damn That Dog!

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

"Down," growled Wufei. "_Down._ Down, I say!"

Sylvia walked carefully down the steps into the impromptu practice room Wufei had created in one of the house's cellars. Sheets of paper bearing kanji symbols adorned the walls in a couple of places, and the floor was waxed. She couldn't help but wonder why he did that…but, she reasoned, if he wanted it that way it was his choice. Remembering the little she knew of such places, she silently slipped off her cork-soled platforms and watched Wufei's first duel in the Winner mansion.

"_There's_ a satisfactory dog. Now…off. Get off. Let go. Did you hear me say let go? Oh, look…this is so humiliating…_fetch_!"

"Having fun?" giggled Sylvia as Quatre's dog, Gustav, began trying to chew through the cherry-wood scabbard of Wufei's katana.

"Can you distract that damned canine?" asked Wufei, omitting a greeting as usual. _You'd think he'd be polite enough to say hello_, thought Sylvia as she beckoned the dog over with a whistle and a snap of her fingers. The Old English sheepdog dropped the lethal weapon and trotted over to her with a hearty bark of recognition. Wufei quickly retrieved his sword and checked the sheath for marks. Finding none, he buckled it to his hip and knelt by the dog, petting it with Sylvia.

"Thank you," he said brusquely. "That seemed to be the only way of getting it back."

"Wufei," asked Sylvia, taking a leaf out of the Chinaman's book and getting straight to the point, "I heard some fighters name their weapons…like the Gundams were named, or like those axes and things in myths. I'm wondering, is yours named?"

"It is," said Wufei warmly. He enjoyed talking about his culture; it was almost egotistical, but he felt he had a right to since he'd dragged his Clan and their way of life back from almost nothing. "It's named Iss-Hogai, which means 'for life'…it's sort of appropriate, really, considering what I fought for in the end."

"I like it," smiled Sylvia. "I never learned to use a sword in school…my grandfather being who he was, he encouraged a more academic education for me."

"I…almost envy you," sighed Wufei, looking away from her briefly. "You never needed to fight."

"But you were able to," replied Sylvia. "I had to be protected."

"And you were. We, all five of us, were dragged into that war by circumstance and our own youthful exuberance…not all of us even knew what we were doing."

"It can't have been good," agreed Sylvia. "But it's behind you, right?"

"Some of us, yes," said Wufei briskly, standing up and walking past her to the stairs. "But…there's at least one of us who's haunted to this day by what he had to do. If you like, you can try to guess who."

Sylvia blinked as he left.

Heero hid beneath the bed, narrowing his eyes. The knocking continued.

"Heero, I know you're in there!" called Relena, sounding almost angry. "Won't you come out?"

Remaining silent, the Soldier pulled out a small cellphone and tapped in a number. He needed rescuing from his only fear – the royal family of the Sanc Kingdom. 

Some four minutes later, there was a knock at the window. Heero dragged himself across the floor and opened it, to be greeted by a grinning American with a rope.

"Shinigami ex machina," chuckled Duo quietly. "Hold this." Handing Heero the remainder of the rope, he hauled himself up to the roof. Heero, in turn, slid to ground level and ran for the front door, aiming to wander past Relena and make her feel an idiot.

He never saw the slip of paper, but he did step on it. Sliding his own length rather too rapidly, he impacted a bush and vanished. Four seconds later he reappeared, clutching the paper and shaking off twigs.

"The hell…" he muttered as he glared at the paper with a 'this is all your fault' expression. His face softened in amazement as he began to read it. It was wet and chewed, so Quatre's dog had found it first; however, some of the words could still be read.

_Quatre…take…longer…circuit…soon…Trowa._

Now he was really confused. He wandered over to the doghouse to investigate further – and, just inside the kennel, discovered a slightly dented can of green beans. Further probing disclosed the remains of a brown paper bag, half a violin bow, untold amounts of hair and some chewed celery as well as some unidentifiable sludge that might once have been food covered in dog saliva.

Heero backed away from the kennel. These were the groceries Trowa had gone out to get.

"What'd you find?" asked Duo next to him. Heero almost jumped, then wordlessly grabbed the back of Duo's head and shoved it into the kennel.

"Hey, let…" began Duo before he realised what was in there with him. He ceased resisting, felt Heero's grip slacken and removed his head from the doghouse.

"Those were groceries," said Heero flatly. "The reason Trowa left."

"This is starting to freak me out," muttered Duo. "What the hell can this mean?"

"There was a note," began Heero, but Duo cut him off.

"Oh my God! The dog ate Trowa!" he yelled. Heero smacked him across the head.

"Shut up, baka," he growled, pushing the bedraggled paper under Duo's nose. The American looked at it briefly, snatched it from his friend's hand and read it properly.

"Great!" he hissed excitedly. "This is great!"  
There was a pause.

"What is it?" asked Duo, expression unchanging.

"I have no idea, but it's to Quatre from Trowa," said the Soldier calmly. "Go and find everyone you can. I'll meet them in the kitchen – our kitchen – in ten minutes. I'm going to have another look around."

At the appointed time, Heero appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. The others, assembled there, stopped talking and looked at him.

"I don't know how much Duo's told you," he said. "But we've found something important."

"What is it?" asked Wufei.

"Trowa came back from his shopping trip," said Heero, his expression unreadable. "And I think he tried to tell you something, Quatre, before he left." Here he tossed the worn note onto the table. Quatre picked it up and looked at it blankly.

"Where did you find this?" asked Milliardo.

"Gustav's place," smirked the Wing pilot. "There were some chewed-up pieces of food there, too. I think the dog got to the groceries and dragged them home, taking Trowa's message – whatever it is – with them."

"Nice detective work," said Sylvia. "But isn't the note the real point of the thing?"

"I'll need to look it over in private," said Quatre. "I'm pretty good at that stuff…I'll try to find out what the rest of it used to say, too…"

"I'll begin asking around," said Relena, "See if anyone's…"

"No one saw him," said Wufei.

"What? How do you know?"

"Quatre will already have asked everyone, and Trowa will never be seen if he doesn't want to be."

"Well, we know he came back, at least," said Milliardo. "That could make all the difference. Now what do we do about it?"

"I'll try to retrace his movements," said Quatre. "He'd have left the groceries here, and then…well, then Gustav took them…"

"That dog needs a kick in the ass," grumbled Wufei. Sylvia chuckled.

"There isn't a lot the rest of us can do," said Heero. "But if you need us, Quatre, we're here."

"Thanks, you guys," smiled Quatre. In that second Sylvia realised how like a family the pilots had had to become.

"Come on, Wufei," said Milliardo. "We'll fence now." The Chinaman agreed readily, mixing his confidence with the necessity to distract himself and the others from the situation. As Quatre left, they followed him and headed to the basement.

"I think I'll contact the Alliance again," said Duo, standing. "Check the local surveillance – not just Quatre's, but those little industrial-espionage camera bugs he's always complaining about. There might be some indication of at least which direction he went."

"I'm gonna go teach the dog a few lessons about groceries," growled Heero, taking a fork from the cutlery drawer and stalking out. Sylvia blinked as Relena, always averse to animal cruelty, erupted from her seat and rocketed down the corridor with a cry of dismay. Even harder to believe was the speed at which Heero left her field of vision once he realised he was being followed and hit his famous top gear, leaving the princess behind to give voice to her trouble.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOO!!"


	11. Fun Time!

A/N: Bear in mind that, while in this chapter I may use a bit of fancy terminology (I haven't decided yet), I know little to nothing of geology and thus may end up talking a load of tosh. So forgive me if I do.

__

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

It had been two days since Heero's discovery. Quatre hadn't left his room much; he said he'd rather get everything he could from the paper found in the doghouse. Gustav had evaded major harm using the simple expedient of biting Heero on the arm and refusing to let go even when beaten over the head with his own kennel (which had mercifully done little damage to his rather thick skull). Heero had more or less healed from the small lacerations of the dog's grip and, with some bandaging, was now arguing with Duo about an idea the American had had.

"I'm tellin' ya, we need to relax," said Duo. "All of us. This place is perfect!"

"Bull," said Heero calmly and bluntly, as usual. "You just want to goof off. We should stay at the task until we're done."

"Why not just ask Quatre?" suggested Wufei quietly, not bothering to look up from his katana-polishing. Milliardo, Sylvia and Relena were walking in the grounds below them, and he was half-listening to their conversation.

"Because he'd automatically go along with it just to keep Duo happy," growled Heero. "And it'd divert us from our objective."

"Then put it to the others," said the Chinaman, sheathing his katana and standing up. He walked over to the door and turned briefly.

"I'll talk to Quatre," he said quietly. "Duo, get the others."

Heero cupped his face in his hands as Duo responded to this by leaning out of the window and accosting the wandering trio at the top of his voice.

"A hot springs?" echoed Quatre, one eyebrow raised. "I know the place you mean…and I don't disagree, but why?"

"We all need a break," replied Duo. He got a cynical look from nearly everyone present; even Relena knew enough of him to guess he considered this whole task to be one long holiday.

"I think he's right," said Sylvia thoughtfully, surprising some of them. "Quatre, you've been working almost non-stop for two days now. You need some relaxation more than any of us. I think we should do it."

"We shouldn't start slacking halfway through the job," protested Heero. He could tell he was fighting a losing battle. And Heero Yuy only did one thing when he lost…

"Ah, you're always on the job," said Duo with a grin. "Give it a rest."

Milliardo had to look away.

"Fine," said Heero, following his usual 'I've lost' procedure. "Let's do it."

They looked at him in surprise.

"That was a turn-around," murmured Wufei.

_I think he just self-destructed his point of view_, thought Sylvia in bemusement.

"When do we leave?" asked Relena. "Should we just get ready now, or do we have anything to finish first?"

"No prep time," said Duo firmly. "The best way to do these things is to be spontaneous. Grab your swimsuits, guys!" He raced off upstairs. There was a pause.

"Follow him," shrugged Wufei, wandering off. "He's the most experienced slacker of us all, so he knows what he's doing."

Finding the logic acceptable, Heero went off after them. He was followed by the others, somewhat hesitantly; the general air was one of not knowing what was going on but wanting to participate. Relena kept blinking.

It was some three hours later that the group arrived at the springs. Like all such places, it was divided into two parts for unisex bathing. Duo had stripped off and leaped into the water wildly as soon as he'd been able, opening the clasp of his braid so it unravelled behind him as he sailed through the air with a mighty hurrah, splashing down in the dangerously shallow water and knocking his elbow on a rock. He came up swearing loudly in time to be hit on the side of the head by a shampoo-bottle hurled over the pool's bisecting wall.

"What the hell is this?" he yelled, grabbing at the bottle.

"Shampoo," came Sylvia's voice. "In case you want to wash your hair. There were two bottles here."

"None here," observed Milliardo. "Thanks, Sylvia." The rest of the males stripped to their shorts and entered the pool gingerly.

"This isn't so hot," said Quatre, pleasantly surprised. He slid into a sitting position, sinking up to his shoulders.

"I must admit, Maxwell, when you pick a place to relax, you know how to make the right choice." Wufei pulled his hair from its small ponytail and let the elastic rest on the edge of the pool.

"Hey, leisure's my specialty," grinned Duo expansively.

"We know," said Heero, floating past on his back.

Over in the girls' pool, Sylvia was relaxing underwater and seeing how long she could comfortably go without needing to surface. It was a surprisingly long time; occasionally she'd see Relena's legs go by as the young queen explored their relaxation space, but she knew her companion's manners were better than to get her to surface just to tell her of her discoveries. She was surprised, therefore, to look to the wall and notice a small hole in it. Clearly, one gender had thought the other to be worth watching. She surfaced, moved over to it – deciding to ignore Relena's inquiries as to her intent – and submerged again to look through the hole.

She could see nothing but legs. One pair was clearly Milliardo's, as they were longer than the rest. The strands of hair floating near another set signified them to be Duo's; however, she wasn't sure which of the other three was which. Finally, one pair detached itself from the rest as their owner took to floating around on his back; short brown hair, Sylvia noted, meaning this was Heero. She watched him until she surfaced again – and when she did, she heard a hideous sound.

Duo had found a cigar-like piece of wood and was doing Groucho Marx impressions to cheer Quatre up. It was working well; the improvised doubletalk had left the blonde in stitches. He was laughing so hard he regularly had to stop himself sliding underwater. Even Milliardo was laughing as he soaped up his hair; he had decided to make use of the shampoo. Even Wufei had made himself busy, erecting small piles of pebbles for no particular reason. Heero was still floating around…but all that changed when Duo managed to tip the scales from idiocy to insanity.

Sighting the drifting Wing pilot, Duo removed the stick from the cigar-pose. Taking careful aim, he drew his arm back and – amid horrified stares from the others – screamed, "ACHTUNG! FIREN TORPEDO!" before sending the stick hurtling toward Heero's shorts.

There was a noise very much like a paper bag full of custard hitting a brick wall. Then a howl from Heero as he sank, doubled over. Then a "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" from Sylvia, over the wall.

"Just Duo," called back Quatre. "He, uh…he threw something at Heero."

"Is he all right?" called Relena, suddenly panic-stricken. Sylvia was amazed at that reaction time from someone who'd never used a weapon.

"He'll be fine when he surfaces," replied Quatre.

"Maxwell won't be, though," added Wufei. "Not for long."

"And Heero might have a little trouble running for a while," said Milliardo. "Or generating little Heeros, come to that."

"Hell," blinked Duo. "Imagine Heero with a daughter."

"A son would be worse," chuckled Wufei. "He'd teach the boy everything he knew. Imagine meeting him in the street and being deathglared from two feet up."

Quatre was starting to snigger quietly again. Although he didn't want to admit it, he'd found the incident incredibly funny; his admittedly remarkable diplomatic skills had begun to crack, and his empathic ability wasn't helping as Duo's mental laughter drove him through the walls of common sense.

Sylvia desperately sought to change the subject before the fuming Heero lost all his self-control and drowned his American 'friend'. A topic of small talk came to her; gripping it gratefully, she called over the wall.

"So how long have these springs been here?"

"They were only discovered about thirty years ago," said Quatre. "Apparently a local was wandering by and the ground exploded under the water pressure. This pool was formed, and the people here were quick to realise it was a great spot to bathe."

"Imagine what he must have thought," mused Duo. "'Help! OZ attack!'"

"OZ weren't a well-known organisation thirty years ago," said Milliardo. "It wasn't until a few years into the war – right after I joined the Specials, actually – that they became public knowledge at all. Then when they began their offensives in China and the L5 colonies, everyone knew about them."

There was a moment's pause. Milliardo had no idea what had happened that fateful day at the home colony of the Long Clan, but he knew that, like himself, the younger pilots didn't often enjoy talking about the war. War in general was fine by him, but the ones they'd all been involved in had left some  ironically painful scars.

"So, Milliardo," said Quatre brightly, shifting subject smoothly with the diplomatic skill of the born negotiator, "Are you still in contact with Miss Noin?"

"You know she prefers Lucrezia now," chuckled Milliardo. "You do know it's all right to use first-name terms with someone if they tell you so, don't you?"

"Oh, let him be polite," chided Relena, raising her voice slightly so as to be heard. "It's probably reflexive. I'm the same with politicians."

"What, and your brother isn't?" laughed Duo, looking at Milliardo.

"I don't have the patience," replied Milliardo. "I'm more of a deterrent than a negotiator."

"Yeah," giggled Sylvia. "I saw you at that party last year, Milly…you're better at glaring than Heero, I've never seen so many people scared of one man standing still!"

"Heero used to be good at that," reflected Relena as Milliardo fumed at Sylvia's name for him. "Just standing around looking dangerous. 'This is what we'll set loose in a Mobile Suit if you even _think_ about getting hostile'. Politics has never been so easy before or since."

"Why don't you ever attend diplomatic meetings any more, Heero?" asked Milliardo.

"Because I have other things to do…Milly." This last was said with a hint of mirth. Duo collapsed laughing, almost drowning in the process.

"Remember you're waist-deep in water," said Wufei, master of the obvious.


	12. Fun Time! Part Two

A/N: Second part…where were we?

CM: Waist deep in water.

KS: Yeah.

_The World's In Your Eyes_, by Kaoru Saotome

There was only so much insanity Heero Yuy could take. He was near his limit.

"Is it legal in Belgium to kill Duo in self-defence?" he asked.

"Not if he isn't attacking you," said Milliardo. "But here they have an exception…if he's mentally unstable and it looks like he's about to attack you, it's legal to act on your own judgement."

They paused long enough to size up the sentence and see if it fit Duo. Yep.

"Can I quote that in a court?" asked Heero.

"Yeah," said Milliardo. "It's called a Sanity Clause."

"Haha," said Duo, "You can't fool me, there ain't no Sanity Claus."

That did it. Heero and Wufei both dived on the raving American, lifting him out of the pool bodily and looking around for somewhere to put him that would shut him up. A brief glance from Heero toward the bisecting wall got an internal response of _don't even think about it_, so they simply deposited the wailing Duo in a bramble bush a few metres from the pool. The shredded pilot's yelps were music to Wufei's ears as he wandered back to the warm water and seated himself in his previous spot, and his threats involving missiles and Heero's backside served only to make Quatre laugh so hard Milliardo had to prop him up against the wall. The Arabian nodded his thanks, being incapable of coherent speech, before continuing to snigger so hard it hurt.

Sylvia and Relena were stuck wondering what was going on. They had a pretty good idea, from the sounds that filtered over the wall, but Sylvia found herself relieved that she couldn't begin to guess at events. She took a deep breath and ducked her head under the wall again to look through the hole; she was in time to see Heero and Wufei re-enter the pool, followed by Duo and what looked like half a thicket. Piecing together what had happened quickly, she surfaced to tell Relena.

"So much for relaxation," complained Duo painfully as the warm water soothed the bruises he'd taken from his landing. "I thought we came here for some peace and quiet."

"We did," said Heero, his eyes closed. "So shut up."

"I don't know," smirked Wufei. "Personally, Maxwell, throwing you into that thing has been one of the more therapeutic things I've done since I arrived."

"Ah, you're no fun," sighed Duo, sitting back and closing his eyes. He then amazed them all by promptly falling asleep.

"I still think he was mentally scarred in the war," muttered Heero. "He's a manic-depressive who never gets depressed."

"Oh, funny," retorted Milliardo, who knew someone like that and wasn't about to laugh at it.

"He's right, though," said Quatre. "The cheerfulness he displays…it's like he's hiding something behind it."

"He does it damn well," murmured Wufei in admiration. "Even I couldn't put up a wall like that."

"It's going to rain," said Relena.

"He did survive the Maxwell Church atrocity on L2," explained Heero. "It's probably something to do with that."

"I might have guessed," mused Milliardo. He hadn't known. "He'd have been the only survivor…all the staff and orphans were killed, according to the reports. With his stealth skills it's easy to see how he escaped."

"It's going to rain," agreed Sylvia, following Relena out of the water.

"He wasn't there," said Heero softly. "It's not my place to tell you. Ask him about it…later."

"So…" Quatre got no further as raindrops began hitting the water with astonishing force and suddenness. "What the…it's raining!"

"We told you," said Sylvia from under a towel near the edge. "Now come on. Wake Duo up and let's get under some shelter."

"Damn smart-alec females," muttered Wufei as they ran for cover.

It was mid-afternoon when they got back to the Winner mansion. Although they'd had fun, certain parties were grumbling about the lack of purpose in going to a hot springs to get rained on.

"Oh, stop complaining, Wufei," giggled Relena over her teacup. They'd needed something to warm them up after the deluge outside, and so they'd bullied a kettle into active service before seating themselves in the kitchen they'd taken over two days previously.

"All I'm saying is that we might as well have stayed here," protested the Chinaman. "The way that rain came down, we could have just taken a bath each and stayed relatively dry."

"Ah, blow it out your ass, Wufei," grinned Duo. "You and I both know the laughs were worth it. Admit it, you enjoyed it while it lasted."

"I will admit no such thing," replied Wufei with a quiet, sincere smile.

"Don't you love these personal moments," murmured Heero, half to himself, as he stared into the depths of his cup. There was a pause, then Relena giggled. Heero's immense self-control managed to stop him spilling his drink during his reflexive fight-or-flight moment, his limbic system going quietly into overdrive as a conditioned reaction to the Peacecraft girl's laughter.

Sylvia blinked. The idea she'd glimpsed days earlier, when Wufei had arrived, had just waved to her again.

_Personal moments..._

_I wish I knew more about Trowa. I'd be able to help more._ She decided not to say anything, as it'd be of no help until she worked out what she was trying to tell herself.

"What do we do now?" asked Duo, looking around.

"We wait some more," said Quatre. All of a sudden, he looked very tired.

"You sure?" asked Sylvia. "We can look at that note some more, see if we can think of anything to – "

"There's nothing we can do," whispered Quatre, closing his eyes. "We just have to wait for him."

The room was silent for a long time after that.


End file.
